Of Snakes and Scarecrows
by Ashrial
Summary: Kakashi and Anko. Oneshot series. Theirs is a story that stretches back long before the present Naruto storyline, to a time of war and bloodshed, an age that shaped an entire generation of shinobi.
1. Of falling rain and final friends

Summary: "We're not friends Kakashi." Anko's voice is quiet, the sibilant whisper of a snake's, one that barely carries over the steady _plop_ of the rain. "We never were."

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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Rain patters down on Kakashi as he steps out of the Konoha library. He pauses just outside of the eave and waits for the woman leaning against the side of the building to speak. He already knows what she will say and he has no wish to start this particular conversation. Anko was never one to shun silence and it is mark of how agitated she is that she breaks it first, her voice dangerously lowered and carrying its ever present bite of cynicism. "Been busy?"

The water forms rivulets down his face as it drip from his dampened hair. It is icy cold, and though night has only just fallen it seems as if all of day's warmth has already been leached out from the world. "I thought there might be a way to help."

"Help?" Anko's eyes flash as she tilts her head to the side and they catch the light. Their reflection is like that of a cat's, laconic and predatory and filled with a vague kind of disinterest. "Help? How could _you_ help?"

"There are ways." Kakashi knows better than to think that Anko will listen, but has to try all the same. "There may not be a way to completely rid you of it, but there are ways to suppress it. If-"

Anko laughs. It is a sharp and cruel noise that proclaims to the world exactly how pathetic she thinks the target of it is. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm trying to help."

"No. You're meddling in something that is none of your business." She leans forward fully, tilting her head so that the entirety of her sneering grin is caught by the light. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and they pull the collar of her shirt down just far enough so that the mark on her collarbone is visible. "This is my screwup."

"You don't have to fight alone."

"We're not friends Kakashi." Her voice has grown quiet, the sibilant whisper of a snake's, one that barely carries over the steady _plop_ of rainwater running off the library eave that veils her. "We never were."

"Why not?" The sentence rings unnaturally, breaking the rhythm of words and falling rain, a single note out of place in a song that has been rehearsed for years.

Anko pulls back into the shadows, the cat-like glint in her eyes flickering out as she turned her head to the side, disinterested, and says in a quiet voice that has nothing in it but the tired tone of one explaining something for the hundredth time. "My friends are kunai and shadows. You're far too sentimental to be either."

Her footsteps patter as softly as the rain as she turns and walks away, leaving him standing in the rain where he started. Kakashi leans his head back and closes his eyes, letting the rain fall unhindered. He has no answer. He never did.

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AN: I plan on making this into a series of Oneshots centering on Kakashi and Anko before the current Naruto timeline. It'll be updated pretty sporadically though.


	2. Of Shed skins and Tears unmarked

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

--

Anko crosses the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Wisps of flame still trickling from his mouth, Kakashi barely has time to dodge, only managing a half roll. It is enough to save his life, the kunai aimed for the back of his head grazing his shoulder. He lets his arm go wide; catching Anko's wrist just above the kunai and twisting her arm up against her back as he completes his turn.

She's too fast to be caught like that. Her elbow jabs at his face as she twists under his arm –he manages to keep his grip on her wrist- and slams the straightened tips of her fingers into his upper arm in a series of practiced strikes designed to destroy the nerve endings there.

It works, his arm going numb. He doesn't let go. More than his life is at stake here.

He gathers his legs under him and springs forward, twisting her wrist around so that the kunai points at her. She's not as strong as him and his brute charge succeeds in pinning her, the breathe leaving her with a hiss of exclamation as her back slams against the tree trunk, the kunai inches from her throat. Her free hand slips upwards, her forearm locking itself against his as she levers the kunai away from her until it points upwards.

Their faces are only a foot apart and their eyes lock, his mismatched ones meeting her brown ones, the wavering kunai the only line between them. It wavers and trembles, caught between their two wills. He knows better than to try, but does anyway. "He's a traitor to Konoha. You don't have to follow him just because he's your sensei. Don't do this."

She doesn't answer. Her half lidded eyes bore into him, and the strange tattoo like brand that covers half her neck glows red and stretches, the marks spreading to consume half of her face. Power ripples off of Anko in waves, a cold energy that catches and snags against Kakashi as if it were made up of thousands of tiny hooks.

"Anko. Don't. I will kill you."

The wavering kunai tilts like a falling tree to point at him, fueled by an inhuman strength.

_Fine_. Kakashi shifts, getting better leverage and bringing his full weight to bear, his free hand pressing into the ring pommel of the kunai. Even with her inhuman strength he is still much larger than her, and the kunai's point wavers back towards her.

Her feet scramble against the branch, and her back arches like a cat's as she brings every bit of strength she has in her small frame against him, the brand burning and stretching across her skin, the dark energy emanating off her sharpening into a thousand miniscule razors prickling against his skin. Her voice is just as sharp when she speaks. "You just don't get it Kakashi. You don't understand the gift my sensei has bestowed upon me."

Her foot hooks around his leg and they both lurch to the side, the kunai whispering an inch from Kakashi's face as he loses his grip on it. He gathers his legs under him and _pushes_, launching Anko off him. A branch clips her shoulder. She spins and lands in a crouch, hands forming seals. His hands blur to match and the air between them blisters and twists, twin fire techniques forming a wall of orange and yellow that wavers with conflicting forces. The brand creeping across her skin gives her more power, and his fire blast begins to cave against her fury.

He gathers his legs under him again, heels pressing against the tree branch, and springs forward. The flame spouting from his mouth forms an umbrella in front of him, keeping the worst of her fire away from him. He is still inches from an inferno though, and the heat rasps against his skin like sandpaper, the single breath he takes scorching his throat. He is through in a second, smoke trailing from his singed hair and clothes. The wall of fire has blocked Anko's view, and such a suicidal move is not one he commonly makes. Kunai clear holsters and they meet in a clash of blades, sparks lighting the air.

A slash cuts the skin under his eye, and blood seeps down to stain his mask. He slides a hand under the arc of her strike and twines it around her arm like a snake, both of their elbows locked, his hand slapping against the back of her shoulder in a firm grip. He has better leverage than she does, and uses it to wrench downwards. She refuses to sink to her knees, and a pop cuts the air, the arm twined around his going limp as it is dislocated. The kunai in her other hand jabs at his face, but it is desperate attack. He twists away and uses the momentum to bring the pommel of his kunai against the back of her head.

She slumps into unconsciousness and Kakashi limps backwards, disentangling his arm from hers. The tattoo-like marks burn an angry red, receding down her neck and shoulders, pulling back into a single pyramid of tear marks on her collarbone. Kakashi sighs and crouches down next to her, pulls her arm back into place with a snap, and fastens the collar of her coat, careful that it covers the tear marks. ANBU will be here soon and he does not want this to have all been for nothing.

--

"After which I was rendered unconscious by the target and awakened several hours later under the care of a medic nin."

Sarutobi tosses her report on his desk with a tired flick of his hand. "And your injuries are healing?"

"Yes." Anko's voice is quiet and cool. As ever.

Sarutobi steeples his fingers, the bottom half of his face obscured. "Do you have anything to add Kakashi?"

"You have my report."

"Anything you want to add to that?"

Anko is on Kakashi's left and with his Sharingan covered she is out of his line of sight. He shrugs; the up and down of his shoulders casual, his hands thrust into his pockets. "If it was important I would have put it in the report."

Sarutobi nods slowly and tosses their reports on the stack of scrolls. He doesn't glance up. "That's all. You can go."

The hallway is cold and dark, and without either of them talking, quiet. They wait until they are out of earshot of the Hokage's office before turning towards each other. Anko's right arm is in a sling. Her left falls to her side, fingers brushing her side holster. "What are you going to do now? Keep an eye on me for the rest of my life? Make sure I don't run away?"

Kakashi's hands stay thrust in his pockets "Now you get to make a choice."

Her eyes narrow into slits. "You'd really let me walk away? Just like that?"

"Of course not. You get to make a choice. I don't."

Her index finger trails a circle along the top of her side holster. "That'd hardly be fair. My arm's in a sling."

"True." He says, "But this time you'll be able to think clearly."

The street lights have flickered on by the time her hand falls away from her side holster. She turns on her heel and strolls away, voice clear. "I'm heading to my apartment. Don't follow."

Kakashi shrugs and sets out in the opposite direction, pretending he wasn't.

--


	3. Of ANBU and Alcohol

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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The light coming from the bulb above the bar is yellow and bright, and when Kakashi and Anko's raise their glasses to it, it is cut into a thousand facets scintillating through the alcohol, turning the ugly brown of pond water left sitting for far too long. The alcohol tastes about like that when he throws it back; stale and algae ridden. This bar isn't one of the better ones, and their drinks aren't either. ANBU wages aren't particularly high.

Ice clinks softly as Kakashi rests the glass back on the counter, followed a moment later by the louder clunk of Anko slamming her glass down with a satisfied grunt. The world is murky, and the steady beat of music and conversation droning in the background make Kakashi's head throb. His hand idly plays with the empty glass, the condensation making the glass slippery under his fingers as he spins it slowly on its lip, tracing an unsteady spiral across the counter that threatens to derail at any moment.

Anko leans back in her seat and with casual disinterest flicks the top of his glass, sending it toppling and the ice inside skittering. Kakashi swats at her hand and tries as best as he can to scoop the ice back into the glass. It is harder than it should be, fatigue and alcohol sending tremors down his hands and the ice not cooperating in the slightest, slipping between his fingers. He is finally able to herd it the edge of the counter, where, with a kind of vague cunning he plans on letting if fall unto his outstretched hand.

Anko is either faster or less drunk than he is, and her hand flickers out to catch the ice just as it goes over the edge. She slips the ice into her mouth before he can blink (or wink. With only one eye uncovered it can be hard to tell at times) and sends him an grin, sliding her lips back and holding the ice with her teeth as if sticking out her tongue. He ignores her, and instead gestures with an unsteady hand for the barman to refill his glass. That's what he needs. More alcohol.

"Aww, c'mon Kakashi." She drawls in a voice that is tinged with alcohol but still manages its normal sarcasm. "No one died on this one. That's better than last time."

The barman refills his glass and Kakashi quaffs it without hesitation. The alcohol is stronger this time, clawing and scratching its way down his throat like an angry cat. "No one on our side."

"Which is the only side that counts." Anko rolls her eyes, kicks back the remaining ice in her glass, and signals the barman for more. The ice crunches between her teeth when she speaks. "If you're going to be like _that_, then warn me now so I can make my exit while I can still walk straight."

They are not the only two shinobi in the bar, but they are the only two sitting by themselves. The seats in a ten foot radius around them are abandoned, and whenever a new customer walks in they are careful to keep to that cordon. Idly, and vaguely, Kakashi wonders when that had started. "Everyone thinks that their side is the only one that counts."

"And in every case it's _true_. You over think things."

"And you don't think at all."

Anko shrugs, not looking overly bothered by the notion. "That's the trick, isn't it?"

The barman refills both their glasses. They hold them up the light and clink them together.

"Damn. This never gets old."

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End file.
